


The Crest Stone of Cethleann

by Kyriptid



Series: Nabatean!Linhardt AU/HC [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriptid/pseuds/Kyriptid
Summary: Linhardt has been holding onto a secret since 1169. And it isn't that he is in love with his best friend.A Nabatean!Linhardt AU fic drowned in angst and violence, all revolving around the power behind the howls the Immaculate one gives off in combat.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Series: Nabatean!Linhardt AU/HC [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845988
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	The Crest Stone of Cethleann

Dimitri has fallen.

Linhardt was supporting Caspar's weight by having the other's arm slung around his shoulders. He had nearly kicked the bucket from a particularly nasty Abraxas from Mercedes; and was only alive because Ferdinand and Linhardt had his back and sides. After some emergency healing, the three had tried to press on to aid Edelgard, Hubert and the Professor in their fight against both Dimitri and Rhea, but it was ultimately unneeded. Apparently Petra and Dorothea had managed to regroup after felling Sylvain and his troops, and together had all been capable of forcing Dimitri to surrender. Linhardt didn't bother seeking out the inevitable execution of the king of Faerghus, but instead turned his attention on the man toeing the line of consciousness beside him.

"Cas, the fight is over. If we can make it back to my horse, I can take you to the medical tent."

Considering the earth near their current location had been torn to shreds by a rampant demonic beast version of an old schoolmate, Linhardt had been forced to abandon his steed in favor of running. Ferdinand was lucky enough to avoid the clutter on his wyvern, but he wouldn't be able to carry Caspar safely. The two of them took too much space with their armor alone.

"Y-yeah…. Sorry, Linny…."

Linhardt frowned a smidge, his outer hand sliding up to take hold of Caspar's draped over his shoulder. He felt a weak squeeze in response despite his partner not raising his head to acknowledge. This would have to be enough, he thought, and began to lead Caspar across the wooden railing towards the disheveled dirt and rubble making up the cliffside. After many minutes of careful steps and shifting his hold, Linhardt finally reached where his horse was drinking from a puddle formed from the onslaught of rain. He did his best to manhandle Caspar onto the saddle. To no avail. Lucky for him, Ferdinand had kept close by for just this reason, and descended to give his help. With the new set of hands, Caspar was hoisted onto the mount and Linhardt quickly behind him.

"Thank you, Ferdinand." Lin tossed a grateful look over his shoulder where his friend was currently in the process of climbing back onto his Wyvern. He paused and looked over, his expression unreadable for just a moment.

"Of course, Linhardt. We must support one another, correct?"

The mage nodded to himself. He was endlessly grateful his friends were as dependable and trustworthy as they were. They had to be- it was them versus, essentially, the world. Lin gave Ferdinand a tired, but genuine, smile.

"Yes."

Ferdinand was obviously exhausted from the fight, but he somehow had the energy to channel the sun itself into an amicable smile as he swiveled his steed and took back to the skies again.

Letting his chin circle back forward to rest on Caspar's shoulder, Lin flicks his wrists and the two lurch into an easy canter. He had his arms around Caspar's waist to support him, but it was also just to help comfort the both of them. He could tell Caspar was struggling to stay awake. It hurt not being able to help any further than he already had, but he knew his companion wouldn't hold it against him. He never did. He figured Caspar wouldn't hold much of anything against him. Even if he had been too late in healing, Linhardt apparently wouldn't have been to blame. He never was in his dear friend's eyes. Even after all of these years of refusing to take a single life- even in the throng of war- Caspar always praised him for his hard work and dedication.

And yet, a nagging concern was ever present in the back of his mind. Something he couldn't trust with the air around them, much less Caspar's racetrack of a brain.

He shook the thoughts off as they neared the medical tent where Manuela awaited. They were some of the first to arrive. Good. All the better for Caspar.

He helped in dismounting the other man, made sure Manuela would be fine for an hour or two, then easily found a seat next to Caspar's cot to nap in.

  
  
  


The march to Fhirdiad was a cold one. It doesn't seem to matter what time of year it was; Fhaergus is freezing to the point of being bitter. Luckily Caspar had managed to talk Linhardt into letting him ride on his horse with him, to "share the warmth". It was a silly lie, one both of them saw right through, but he was delighted all the same when given permission to sidle up behind the mage and squeeze his waist. Oh the perks that come with Linhardt being a dark knight~

His wounds, thanks to Manuela, had healed up nicely. Both she and Caspar had tried to praise Linhardt for his quick thinking on the battlefield, but he did as he always does with compliments and deflected them onto everyone around him but himself. They relented.

For now.

"Linhardt, Caspar!" both men perked up from the call, seeing Bernadetta slide up next to them on her own steed. She had a blanket draped around her shoulders; a red and black combination that could only belong to Dorothea, and a warm smile on her face. "So I'm not the only one freezing my buns off!~"

Caspar barked a laugh and raised his head from where it had been nestled into Linhardt's hair. "No kiddin'! It is  _ way  _ too cold up here!" He could feel Linhardt move in front of him, probably wincing from the shouting directed  _ right  _ into his poor ears. But he didn't complain. He never does.

"Well, the temperature tends to drop the further north you travel. What did you expect?"

Both Caspar and Bernadetta turned towards the mage and stuck their tongues out in accidental tandem. Cue the giddy giggling afterwards. Caspar couldn't  _ see  _ Linhardt's face, but he could tell he was trying not to smile. Bernadetta bid her farewell and urged her horse onwards to clop up to where Dorothea and Petra were keeping pace several yards ahead. The two men fell back into a silence, with Linhardt's attention focused forward and Caspar snuggled into his back. The towers and flags of the capital had just come into sight when a shadow slid up beside them.

"Oh, hey Hubert!" The blue haired grinned down to where their tactician was striding beside them, a bundle of papers in his hands. He hummed his greeting and held out two slips to the other two. They each took their respective paper.

"Your battalion assignments for this fight. They'll join you at the gates. Do be careful with them? It would be a pity to lose such  _ able bodied fighters _ ."

Linhardt snorted quietly from the jab, obviously having heard a joke that went over Caspar's head. "Duly noted,  _ commander _ . We'll be extra careful."

Caspar was utterly confused from the quiet chuckle the dark mage offered as he strode away, likely to continue his rounds of updating battalion assignments. "What was that about, Linny?"

Linhardt slipped his free hand over one of Caspar's and leaned back a bit into him. "It was a jest, Cas. Don't worry about it." And, while he was unendingly curious, Caspar decided to drop it. He was never good with keeping up with the friendly banter his boyfriend and Hubert partook in anyways.

  
  


Upon reaching the outskirts, smoke began to billow up from behind the walls, and the telltale glow of embers worked to combat the setting sun. The army came to gather outside the abandoned gates, allowing everyone to regroup. Linhardt's horse came to a halt next to Bernadetta's, though the woman in question was currently huddled between Dorothea and Petra.

"Surely they evacuated the city before…."

"I don't know, Bernie. But…."

"I am having hope that Rhea would not be stooping so low."

"I didn't see any signs of a mass evacuation. At least not from this gate."

Linhardt was frowning at the said structures, but he looked rather resigned to the information. Of course, this isn't to say Caspar was not upset as well, but he was much more vocal about it.

"What kinda leader would force innocent people to burn to death?? They didn't do anything wrong!"

Dorothea glanced back at the two, her eyes hard with anger. "A horrible one. The civilians…" The pain in her voice ended up silencing her. Petra ran a hand over her back as a quiet form of comfort, her other occupied with one of Bernadetta's palms.

"Cas." The brawler's furious thoughts were interrupted by the quiet call, and he instantly turned his attention to the man in his arms. He was shaking a bit.

"What is it, Linhardt?"

The mage turned his head to the side, looking at him from his peripherals. "I have something important to tell you after this fight is done."

Well. That was a surprise. What could Linhardt possibly mean by that? If it was something good, he wouldn't look as pale as he was. Caspar's concern must have been plainly on display, as Linhardt squeezed his hand and tried to put on a small smile. "Don't worry. It isn't  _ that  _ bad. But it's very important, and something I should have told you a long time ago."

That did nothing to quell his worries. But he didn't have the time to stew over it, as everyone around them was beginning to prepare for the attack. With a quick kiss to Lin's head and one final squeeze with his arms, he dismounted the horse and sought out his new battalion. Whatever Linhardt was harboring would have to wait until Fhirdiad fell, one way or another. He planned on making sure they both made it to the other side.

  
  
  


The warmth leaving Linhardt's back was instantly noticeable. The cold seemed to seep into his body instantly, biting at his frayed nerves. It was awful. He watched Caspar trot away to get prepared and could not help fearing that may be the last time he sees him in good health. Such thoughts always plague his mind, but...something in the air was making every single hair on his body stand on end. It had his hands near  _ vibrating  _ against the reins pressed into them. The funny thing was, his horse hadn't picked up on it yet. How strange is that?

As the professor and Edelgard made their way to the frontlines in preparation to lead the charge, Linhardt felt his stomach clamp and his blood run cold. A howl had erupted from the city, something guttural and inhuman and  _ angry _ . It threaded ice into his bloodstream just from the sound alone. He must have zoned out, as his battalion and everyone around him had started to advance at some point. Did he miss the pep talk? Oh well, it isn't like he paid them much attention anyways. He urged his horse forward, and before long the city was opened up to them. The frosty bite of Faerghus was practically deemed void from the sheer heat erupting from the buildings and streets. It was a hellscape to behold. Smoke poured from virtually every window, street lamps were shattered and kicked aside left and right- and the fighting had not even begun yet. What  _ happened _ ?

Another heart stopping screech gripped him by the throat, nearly forcing him to buckle over from the sheer force of it. A  _ sound _ . Bringing him close to unconsciousness. He almost wanted to feel ashamed, but in all honesty, he understands why. Soldiers of the church of Seiros appeared through the swelter down the street, weapons taking on a ghoulish glow in the embers around them. There was a side road leading around the outskirts of town, and Linhardt decided that taking that route would probably end best for him; commands be damned. He will force his magic to reach as far as it needs to if that means he can make this one off-the handle call. People were starting to yell and sprint and clash at the frontlines, but Linhardt knew damn well better than to get tangled up in that mess- ailment or no ailment.

As his horse's hooves slammed into the pavement pushing him onward, he could tell he was being failed. He spared a glance back, only to see Caspar, Bernadetta and Dorothea following suit. No matter, he didn't have the room to complain about backup. As he thundered up some steps, he willed a Cutting Gale to his hands to prepare himself for the inevitable enemy line. And there it was, a singular unit. A singular, large, towering unit. A golem, Linhardt's brain easily supplies. He knows about these things all  _ too _ well. He can hear Caspar cursing behind him about something, but the mage wastes no time in pressing forward and firing off his Cutting Gale. He knew it would bounce right off, but he had to make sure.

And yet, as soon as the spell leaves his finger tips, a ripple of heat surges across his body. He gasps, leaning forward in his saddle in an attempt to catch his breath. Whatever that was, he knew it spelled very, very bad news for him. Was he seriously going to have to go this whole battle without touching his black magic?? Caspar raced ahead of him to take on the Golem, Bernadetta smashing through a part of its barrier with a curved shot from behind him. The stun was enough for Caspar to get in some good hits with his gauntlets, and Dorothea followed up with a powerful strike of Sagittae to finish it off. She stepped up to Linhardt's horse and peered up at him with obvious concern.

"Linhardt?" He knew he needed to give her something remotely reassuring so she won't worry, but frankly, he did not have the energy for it. He cast a pained grimace down to her and shoved himself back into a sitting position.

"I'm fine. Keep going."

It did not soothe her one bit, but this was a battle, and they did not have time to worry over some strange stomach bug. (At least, he vainly hopes it is just a stomach bug.)

Linhardt spurred his horse onward, picking his way through the disintegrating rubble of the golem, and was met with a Fire spell to the chest. It rolled off with ease, given Linhardt's exceptional resistance to magic, but the impact itself winded him more than it should have. Once again, he was halted and his allies had to step in. Battalions were clashing and Caspar was shouting something about heads and Bernadetta was sniping down faraway mages- it was all starting to mess with Linhardt's head. Just as a Meteor spell crushed the enemy war master guarding the next set of steps, another wail ripped through the air and had Linhardt seeing stars. He wasn't sure what exactly happened, but when he opened his eyes again- which for the record, he had not closed as far as he can recall- Bernadetta was hovering over him looking paler than paper.

"...nhardt! Oh!!! You're awake- c'mon, you gotta get back up!!"

Since when was he on the ground? He saw the frills of Dorothea's dress flutter in his peripherals, but for the life of him he could not will himself to turn his head and look. His body felt like solid lead.

"Where are we?"

The widening of Bernadetta's eyes certainly did not bode well for their situation. So they were still in Fhirdiad. Wonderful. He attempted to get up, the distant sounds of another Golem being smashed to pieces barely cutting through the ringing in his ears. Was everything always this quiet? And numb? And dark? He is probably blacking out, actually. Yeah, that would make sense. He snaps back from his thoughts to find himself on his feet with Bernadetta supporting his weight at his side.

"Linhardt… Maybe you should retreat…"

She had a look in her eye Linhardt decided he very much did not like.

"I'm fine. Just...tired."

"Lin!!!"

Linhardt looked up to see Dorothea and Caspar walking back towards them, their collective battalions giving them all enough time to regroup. His partner had some new dents in his armor and a cut on his cheek, but otherwise the two looked fine. Good.

"What's goin' on with you?? You've been off ever since we got to Fhirdiad!"

A good question, one the other two present seemed to share with his boyfriend. They were looking at him for answers, and honestly, he  _ still  _ did not want to spill them. He had never told  _ anyone  _ his entire waking life. He couldn't.  _ They  _ were always watching, always listening. Even here.

Linhardt pulled a shuddery breath into his lungs, and slowly released it back out.

"I'll tell you all after the battle. I promise. I just...can't. I don't know who is listening."

And, weirdly enough, the answer quells them. No, they did not seem satisfied, but even Caspar looked like he knew he wasn't getting anything more out of him right now.

"...Fine. But I'll hold ya to that, Linny. Got it?"

He nodded, and so too did the other three. He could do this. Bernadetta squeezed his arm, giving him half of a reassuring smile.

He could do this.

He turned his attention back to Caspar and flicked his hand up to seal the cut along the other's cheek with a tiny Heal spell, and in that same moment another shriek echoed through the entirety of the city. The magic leaving his fingertips grew boiling hot and a pulse ripped down his hand and through his arm. A layer of previously unseen magic was shattering inch by inch at a breakneck speed, travelling all across his body and even through his hair. Both horses whinnied and sprinted off, and even Bernadetta yelped and jumped away. It wasn't painful, so to speak, but it was blinding. All at once, his magic roared to life around his hands and elbows and chest, shredding apart the hidden spell he had worked so hard all of his waking life to discover the cure to. A hex concealing the ears that were now returning to their normal length, the bright, grassy sheen in his hair, the luminescent aura that ignited to life in his eyes. He panted, the magic swathing over him in a panic.

Is this what would have happened in the safety of his own room? Or is this because it was forcefully shattered? Linhardt knew he would not have the time to research the matter. Not when his breathing was turning so labored and his vision was swimming with colors and bright splotches and spatters of black. He could hear voices through the haze, and he knew he should be able to recognise them, but the howling echoing in his mind was starting to drive impulses into every inch and thread of his being. Lights were glittering everywhere he looked, and his body felt lighter and lighter as he writhed. Was he on the ground? He couldn't tell, not with the constant smear of green constantly engulfing every piece of his conscience.

It went quiet for a moment, dark. When his vision returned, everything was so much smaller, further. Dorothea was holding a panicked Caspar from under the arms, and Bernadetta was hiding behind the two. The same cry from before rattled his bones, and he could feel the skin on the back of his neck vibrating with intense energy. The wailing was calling him, and while he was still staring down at the people he had grown to know as his family, his muscles turned  _ scalding. _

  
  
  


Caspar had absolutely no idea what to make of this. One minute, Linhardt was whimpering and on his hands and knees, and in a flash of light, he was replaced by a lanky, towering draconic beast of some sort. He has never seen anything like it- not even the most foreign of wyverns looked this weird.

And yet. Looking into its eyes, he could see it  _ saw them _ . It saw them, and it recognised them. It was a he, and that he was his best friend since childhood. 

Bernadetta was quietly screaming behind where Dorothea had Caspar in a headlock. The terror he could feel bubbling in his gut turned into a roaring hurricane as Linhardt- that  _ IS  _ Linhardt, right??- took a thundering step forward. His partner was trembling, the strange feathers sprouting from his skull and wings fluttering like the wings of a bee. That's probably not normal.

"Lin???"

His call seemed to jostle Linhardt from his thoughts; a common occurrence, but in this instance…

Another thundering step. 

Something tells Caspar this is not going to end well. Dorothea's hands release him and the two retreat some distance, but Caspar stands frozen. What is he supposed to do?  _ Brandish his axe against his boyfriend??? _

And considering the magic gathering around the bleeding horns of his draconian partner, Caspar comes to the realisation he may have to do just that. Just as he was reaching for his axe slung on his hip, an arrow pierced into Linhardt's shoulder. Instantly, his massive green eyes were shifted behind Caspar to where Bernadetta had mounted her horse again and taken on a terrified but determined disposition. Dorothea had her hands ready to cast as well. It was chilling, seeing his long-time friends turn their metaphorical blades onto his lover. And yet, when Caspar returned his gaze to said partner, he knew they had no choice. 

Like lightning, Linhardt pushed off the ground and broke into a sprint towards Bernadetta and Dorothea. Caspar dove to the side to avoid being trampled, and the two scattered to evade the charge. Lin slammed into the building behind them, staggering like a newborn deer. His head whipped from side to side, chunks of deep green hair tumbling from where it was spilling out under the crest of his skull. The brawler backed up as much as he could, eventually reaching the stairs they had just arrived from. Linhardt was  _ big _ . And that is  _ terrifying _ considering he was now starting to whip his massive tail to and fro, the glimmer of the burning buildings glinting off of the dagger-like nails jutting from the tip of it; like some kind of demented whip. Dorothea and Bernadetta were separated on either side of the towering reptile, and yet Caspar had a sinking feeling that would not stop both of them being attacked simultaneously.

He had just gathered his courage and taken a step forward when Linhardt twirled around and lunged at Dorothea, claws crashing down into cobblestone as she sprinted to evade. Right as he landed, he threw himself around and slammed the middle of his tail into her back, sending her flying in Caspar's general direction. Luckily she managed to tuck her head into her arms before hitting the ground, but even from this distance he could hear the cracking of bones.

This is bad. Very bad.

Bernadetta was galloping back to aid Dorothea, only to narrowly miss getting decked in the head with the tip of the very same tail that had struck Dorothea to the ground. As she ducked under it, she hopped off of her steed and spurred it to run, knowing it was only a liability in a fight like this most likely. Caspar began to finally run forward as the horse passed him to clamber down the stairs, seeing that Dorothea was somehow managing to get back to her feet. 

She was always incredibly strong.

Linhardt began to advance again, his wings spreading out to their full lengths as he stepped forward. They weren't even moving that much and were kicking up winds just from the vibrating feathers erecting from every joint in the extra limbs. They were glowing just as brightly as Linhardt's animalistic eyes were, and somehow that unnerved Caspar more than anything else. They reminded him of the tail of a rattlesnake. As he helped Dorothea stand back up, Linhardt was doused in a dark blob of magic. A glance to the sky confirmed Hubert- albeit visibly sick and gripping onto Ferdinand with every ounce of his energy- atop a wyvern piloted by Ferdinand, who had the Spear of Assal readily grasped in his free hand. Backup. Good. Maybe they could subdue Linhardt enough to get them all through the battle.

Caspar sidestepped Dorothea and Bernadetta to begin trotting towards Linhardt, who only looked mildly miffed from the magic attack more than injured. Then again. This is Linhardt. He shouldn't be surprised a magic attack did next to nothing. As he swung his axe into his hand, he saw Linhardt begin to unhinge his jaw. Realisation took over just in time, seeing as bright orange lights were travelling up the column of his dreadfully long neck and into his cheeks. With a gutteral snarl, flames spurt from his mouth and began to douse the sky in their backup's direction. Ferdinand wove away from the attack, though the sheer power behind each punch of fire meant flying "out of range" was out of the question. Even Linhardt was experiencing recoil from the force of it, his head jutting backwards each time he let loose another pillar of magma.

The wyvern ducked and twirled in the air to avoid the attacks, both of its riders clinging on tightly so as to not fall off mid-flight. A cape was singed, the tail got charred, but eventually Linhardt must have run out of juice and his head fell just a fraction. Caspar took the opportunity to close the remaining distance and score a strike into Linhardt's shin. Instantly, the beast spat and whipped his head back around, rows of teeth being bared as he darted down to snap at his partner. Caspar used the leverage of the weapon now embedded into Linhardt's leg to yank himself to safety under the dragon's body, then ditched said tool to race out behind him out of range of his fangs. The thunk of another arrow landing its mark told Caspar he would safely be able to make his escape, but just as he turned to make sure, he saw Linhardt tear his axe from his leg and  _ bite it in two _ .

Shit. That was his favorite axe, too.

"Lin…!"

The shadow of Ferdinand's wyvern overhead informed Caspar they were diving in for another round of attacks. Hubert landed another Mire spell despite the utterly  _ ill _ expression on his face, followed by Ferdinand scoring a deep stab into Linhardt's right upper shoulder. He howled from the injury, but the pain was short-lived. His tail whipped around and snagged the wyvern's leg, ripping the flesh down to the bone in one clean slice. It cried out in a hauntingly similar manner, and Ferdinand retreated further into the air in a mild panic. Hubert summoned a Dark Spikes spell, which mostly seemed to simply phase through Linhardt's body and not actually puncture anything. Still, his attention was ensnared, and his mouth opened once again to spit forth fire. As he chased the wyvern in the air with his breath, Bernadetta took the opportunity to land three arrows into Linhardt's side. He wasn't even flinching from the wounds, and that told Caspar he must  _ seriously  _ not be in control right now. He shuffled to get his backup gauntlets on, watching with bated breath as Ferdinand and Hubert moved closer to the city walls. Ferdinand was shouting something, and Hubert was too paralysed to call forth any other spell- and just like that, Caspar's heart stopped as the flames finally found their mark and engulfed the two in an utterly well-timed fake-out on Linhardt's part. The wyvern screeched and licks of fire and liquid magma sprayed off of the trio as the attack landed, launching them clear past the castle walls in a messy glob of fire and concentrated magic.

A second crawled by as the sight finally registered in Caspar's brain.

That wasn't just a bad blow. That was a lethal blow. 

Ferdinand and Hubert are  _ dead _ . Just like that.

A horrified scream pulled both he and Linhardt from their thoughts, and the beast swivelled around to size up Dorothea and Bernadetta on the other side of the clearing.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

Caspar's legs began moving before he told them to, and soon he was coming back up onto Linhardt's bleeding, injured flank. A Sagittae spell slammed into his partner's right wing, fizzling out in the blink of an eye.

Shit.

Linhardt shrugged as an arrow lodged itself into the front of his shoulder, green ooze gushing from the wound almost instantly. Did he not have some weird barrier like the other demonic beasts and golems had?? Could they not stun him and try to calm him down??? Caspar wailed a mighty blow as hard as he could muster into the joint of Linhardt's back left leg, which most certainly elicited a strangled growl. Instantly, emerald lasers were boring into him, and the brawler clung close to the leg he had just assaulted to avoid the range of that horrible tail. A bad idea, as Linhardt simply lifted said leg and kicked him square in the chest, sending him crashing into the building the dragon himself had once stumbled into. The air was punched out of him, and Caspar could see his vision blinking from the blunt force of the attack, but otherwise his armor had taken the brunt of the blow. Still, he was too winded to get up right away, and grimaced as Linhardt returned his attention to the women that had been showering him in attacks since the start of the fight. Bernadetta was running around his side as fast as she could, letting loose a few arrows as she moved to try and pull the attention towards her. Even as an arrow sunk into Linhardt's neck, he kept his attention glued to the brunette standing below him. Caspar couldn't see much, but he could see her stance was tall. Thoron erupted below the beast's maw, enveloping his head in surging magic. And once it was gone, he had not even moved. A gnarled paw rose into the air.

Caspar squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear the crunching, the faint hint of a scream cut off just before it could crest.

Fuck. No.

He opened his eyes to yet another shout- Bernadetta- just in time to see Dorothea's body flung towards the archer with lightning speed. The two tumbled down to the ground with a loud crack, and right as Caspar had managed to struggle back onto his feet did he see those accursed flames return to burn the two to cinders. Even with the fires roaring around him and the adrenaline coursing through his body, Caspar has never felt so  _ cold. _

It was just him and Linhardt. Like they had promised it would be in the end. Just the two of them against whatever came their way. 

Only this...this was not them against the world. With Linhardt turning his predatory glare towards him, he knew this was him against Linhardt.

A few lumbering steps had Linhardt advancing, though his injuries were finally starting to slow him down. He was definitely walking with a limp, but that did not seem to matter given the utter  _ bloodlust _ curdling in his crazed, widened eyes. Caspar gripped the handles in his gauntlets just a bit tighter as he swallowed. The din of battle around them had long since been lost on him. All he could hear was the wet panting of his partner and every single drip of emerald blood on the pavement.

Howling pierced through the scene like a sword through a cloth, and Linhardt snarled and thrashed like a mad dog in response. Whatever was causing those noises had to be what was making Linhardt go crazy. If he could only stall him long enough for Edelgard and the others to destroy it…

That hope flew right out the window as Linhardt actually  _ barked _ at him and began to sprint towards him, maw agape. Caspar waited just a few moments before darting forward out of the arc the dragon had committed to, and punched a hand upwards to begin raking down what flesh he could find. A chunk from the neck, a nick on the sternum, but once he got to the stomach he managed to leap up and quite literally  _ rip a whole slab _ off of his ribs. Green coated his arm and parts of his shoulder instantly, and the flesh he had dislodged fell to the ground with a sickening thud. As he sprinted along the length of Linhardt's body towards his rear, he could hear him yowling from the severe damage. He  _ had _ to be close to buckling.

His beeline was cut short as his distressed lover began to turn around, feet smearing dark green and red everywhere they touched. Caspar took a moment to halt and carefully avoid being crushed, taking his partner's temporary confusion to land another powerful punch into the back of Linhardt's front right leg. The beast hissed, his foot losing its grip on the ground and sliding forward.

_ Shit _ .

Linhardt was collapsing, and Caspar had to get clear right  _ now. _

He ducked forwards, narrowly escaping the left paw that was sailing through the air on his downward fall. As he retreated forwards, he checked over his shoulder to make sure Linhardt wouldn't send his tail out after him in some sort of pursuit. 

He wasn't.

He was panting, bleeding, drooling, oozing magic and green gunk- doing just about everything other than attacking. His head was on its side, the neck curling it around so it was staring directly in Caspar's direction. And. For the first time in what has felt like hours, when Linhardt stared at him, he knew he wasn't actually seeing him. He was staring right through him, showers of verdant specks painting the ground in front of his snout. Caspar, while still horribly wary of a fire attack, quickly approached his partner's side.

"Lin??? Lin, can you hear me??"

As he grew closer, he could hear how wet the other's breathing was. Caspar must have managed to get him deep enough to hit his lungs. Given how skinny Linhardt's body was, it was no surprise the flesh was only a thin layer of protection. The beast lazily shifted his eyes from straight ahead to Caspar's new location, something resembling a cough getting caught in his long throat. All of the damage he had taken over the course of the fight from all of their friends was now painfully obvious. His scales were naturally green but...now it seemed like almost every inch of him was just a few hues lighter with thick, inhumane blood. Caspar kept his gauntlets raised, at the ready.

"Lin…"

While the reptile before him did not move his jaw, nor did his chest change patterns, his voice echoed through the clearing with startling clarity.

"Cas… what have I done?"

Linhardt's eyes were no longer glowing. They were full now, just a forest-y green adorned with scarlet scales and a crest stone Caspar has never seen before. The crest was all-too familiar- Cethleann's- but he tried to not focus on the true meaning behind that.

Instead, he slowly peeled one of his gauntlets off and reached out towards Linhardt's muzzle. He made contact without any issue, and when it became apparent the fight had entirely left his partner, he ditched his other gauntlet as well.

"This wasn't your fault, Linny. You didn't mean to do any of this!"

His voice was coming out a lot more strangled than he wanted it to. He wanted to be convincing. He needed to tell Linhardt he didn't blame him for this. That this was not his fault, and that they could fix it. Somehow.

"I killed them. The first people I ever killed were the very family we fought to make."

Caspar's hand stilled where it had been stroking his dearest friend's nose. He was doing his best to choke back his tears, but the weight of what just transpired was simply too heavy. He sucked in a shaky breath.

"That wasn't you, Linny. This isn't-"

" **Yes. It is.** "

Caspar startled from the graveness in Linhardt's tone, and in how his wings feebly tried to shift under the weight of his body. They were both undoubtedly snapped and broken.

"This is who I am, Caspar. This is...what I had meant to tell you about. After the battle."

Suddenly, panic began to thread its fingers into Caspar's chest and throat, and he stepped closer to the other's face.

"The battle is still goin' on, Lin!!! You're not dying on me. I won't let you. C'mon, w-we gotta-"

" **Caspar** ."

He was trembling- they both were. For different reasons, yes, but they were both shaking. Caspar was fighting back terrified sobs with his free hand pressed fiercely over his lips. The pure defeat in Linhardt's eyes was the final nail in the coffin.

This was it. This was the end.

His partner shook with a soaked cough, his throat concluding with undoubtedly pools upon pools of blood caking it.

Blood. Caspar was covered in it, though it was all Linhardt's, and the ground around them had become something of a massive puddle. And yet. Lin has never looked less concerned by it.

"Linny…"

As he stepped close enough, Caspar laid both of his hands over Linhardt's cheek, pushing aside a few tiny rivers of blood to clean off a space for him to press a tearful kiss to.

"I love you, Caspar."

A few moments passed as Caspar gathered his strength. When he pulled back, tears were flooding down his cheeks, but he refused to let himself break quite yet. Linhardt needed him to be strong.

"I-I love… I love you t-too, Linny. I love you so much." He wiped one cheek clean with the back of his hand, hiccuping as he did so. The dark cloud of grief that was settling in Linhardt's dimming gaze was almost enough to force the brawler to look away. But he couldn't. He couldn't turn his face away from Linhardt in his last…

"Please...once the fight is over, burn my remains. Destroy the crest stone. I know it is a tall order-"

" _ Lin _ -"

"But I am begging you."

Linhardt's echoing voice was growing weaker. He could hear the struggle in it despite normal vocal cords not being used to produce it. Caspar stared into the eyes of his beloved Lin, his indignation from moments before melting at the desperation in Linhardt's voice.

" **Please** . Do this last thing for me, love."

And like that, Caspar nodded and accepted the request. If he had to do it all by himself, he would. Hell, he was now dead set on doing it  _ pointedly  _ all by himself. No one else would be allowed to hurt Lin. Not now...and not ever again. If that means Caspar needed to destroy whatever would be left, then so be it.

His heart has never felt heavier.

"Thank you."

Linhardt's eyelids began to close, and a shred of panic pulsed through Caspar's body, but they never fully shut. The labored breathing stopped, the blood slowed, and the glow in the feathers adorning his partner's crown dimmed to pale mint leaves.

He was gone.

A cry from the middle of town erupted, but given how pained it sounded, he would have figured it was a good sign. Though, at the moment, he couldn't find it in him to care about who won the battle.

Ferdinand. 

Hubert. 

Dorothea. 

Bernadetta. 

Linhardt. 

All dead within a single hour from a single fight.

Caspar was supposed to be the frontlines- the first to go if any were to- and yet he was the last one standing. Left behind in a way he never fathomed he would ever experience. It was all crowding his head, screaming at one another like crows from across a corn field. His body was moving without him, picking up his gauntlets and putting them back on one by one. His fire was gone, the thrill of battle quelled entirely. All that was left was an icy talon clutching his gut with a vice grip. As he stepped around the still body of his fallen partner, he saw the body of a massive white beast similar to Linhardt collapsing backwards. After that, no roaring boomed about the city. The flames quieted. Warcries fell silent. The smoulder of battle sat heavily on Caspar's tongue as he stared out over the wreckage. He thought he could see Edelgard far across the town over newly buckled buildings, but at this point he couldn't find it in him to care too much. His feet carried him closer, his breathing still erratic from the silent sobs he was trying to force down. He would have ascended the next flight of steps had he not heard a grunt behind him. He whipped around, almost hopeful, before he was slammed with dread.

Purple lights had enveloped the area around Linhardt, a few people in dark robes and bird masks visible for only a moment before they, and the corpse of his beloved companion completely vanished in a flash of light.

"Caspar!"

He didn't even bother to turn as a hand rested on his pauldron, one of his few remaining friends poking her head around to take in his tear-stained expression of sheer guilt and grief.

"C-Caspar?? What is wrong??"

As he finally shifted his gaze to a bloody, worried, but otherwise  _ whole  _ Petra, Caspar hiccuped again. Before he could think twice about it, he dragged her into a tight embrace and held her as close as he could, emptying out his sobs into her shoulder. Even through her surprise and deepening concern, she returned the gesture and tried to soothe him with gentle rubs to his back. Despite the minimal details she had to go off of, she deduced it would be best to not ask questions for a while, and simply held him.

When Caspar finally pulled away, he forced himself to maintain eye contact with his loyal ally. She waited patiently as he pieced together his thoughts, trying to come up with the easiest way to portray just how heavy their losses were. In the end, he choked a sob, and tossed his gaze down. For all that happened, for all that was just taken from them, Caspar could only manage to piece two words together for his friend.

"They're gone."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ I hope you enjoyed it! I have been working on this AU of Linhardt for AGES and am so happy to finally post a fic featuring it! I plan on writing another fic taking place after this one, as well as a separate thread of fics of a less tragic route the same story could take. It'll take a while, but I appreciate your interest nonetheless!
> 
> All I talk about is Nabatean!Linhardt on Twitter, and you can find me at @_kycchi ! My pinned tweet has a doc with a lot of my works for this AU/HC all neatly piled into one place. One of my most recent works was a colored full body of Linhardt in his dragon form if you need a reference for how he appears. I pulled descriptions specifically from it.


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